"We'll be ready for him, if he does," said Sam.
"It seems to be a regular menagerie up here," laughed Jack Conroy. "What's comin' next, I wonder?"
They straggled back to the fire, piled on more fuel, and now as wakeful as they had ever been in their lives, watched the pale radiance of the moon slowly spreading out over the quiet landscape.
"Say," remarked Jack Conroy, as he suddenly rose from his seat on a log, "I see somethin' over there that doesn't look a bit like a rock, or bushes; an' it isn't a bear, either," he added, earnestly. "Come here, Somers."
"I'm in on this," chirped Tim, springing to his feet. His eyes, following the direction of Jack's outstretched arm, took in an odd-shaped form moving slowly about in the ghostly light.
"That is passin' strange, Jack," he murmured, in puzzled tones. "Thunderation! No animal could have a shape like that and live."
The crowd formed a half-circle around Bob Somers, as he brought out his field-glass and took a long, searching look. When he lowered it, an expression of wonderment rested upon his features. Without answering an eager volley of questions, he raised the glass again, his lips puckering to emit a shrill whistle of surprise.
"What is it, Somers?" howled Jack, impatiently.
"Say, fellows—" Bob's tone, full of amazement, caused a tremor of eager expectancy to run through the crowd.
"Well?" queried Tim, breathlessly.